


Hamilton With Pride

by fancypearl



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is afraid of storms which is the biggest cliche, Alexander loved Pip too, Angst, Anxiety, Canon Era, Eliza truly is best of wives and best of women, F/M, Grief/Mourning, I wrote this in an hour plz love me, Pip is an innocent bean, but there is pain, but this time with 100x MORE PAIN, not historically accurate, the summary sounds cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancypearl/pseuds/fancypearl
Summary: Philip thought is father was the bravest man he knew. Naturally, he wants to be just like him when he grows up. But when he finds out that Alexander has a fear of storms, he remembers how his father always holds his hand when he's afraid- and decides it's only right if he does the same for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally had this thought in my head since November but I only just acted on it. I'm not used to NOT writing Lams so this was new for me. I wrote it in like an hour and it's not super long.

If you asked 5-year-old Philip Hamilton who the bravest person in the world was- he would tell you it was his father. Philip relished the nights where Alexander would sit with him in bed, and tell him stories about the war that had built the nation. He would recount to Philip about how he led a battalion in Yorktown, charging toward British soldiers head on. 

He would stop eventually when Philip yawned, barely able to keep his eyes open as he struggled to stay awake only to hear the rest of the story. Alexander would run a hand through Philip's unruly curls and kiss his son on the forehead, chuckling when Philip whined and begged his father for one more story. 

"You can barely keep your eyes open, my boy." He would grin. 

"Nuh-uh.. I can keep my eyes open." He would then frown at the way his body betrayed him as he let out another yawn. "I can, papa. Please just one more story? Tell me bout' you and General Washington." 

His father would look at him and then back at the door, before giving in and sitting next to his son once more. He could practically hear his father's smile when he said: "Fine, Pip. But if your mother comes in here, we both pretend we're asleep." 

The funny thing was, his mother would come in eventually. But instead of 'pretending' they were asleep, she would find her husband resting his head on top of their son's, both of them snoring. She would chuckle before running a hand down her husband's face. 

Philip would dream about leading his own battalion. He was always going face to face with the enemy. In his dreams, he always won.. He was always the fastest. He was brave like his pops, because his father wasn't scared of anything. Not like Philip was.. Philip was scared of a lot of things. He was scared various types of bugs, and snakes.. and school lessons. 

He sometimes had nightmares and he would wake up screaming. When that happened, his father or mother would always come in to hold his hand. He would always be a bit embarrassed because, if he was going to be brave like his father, he'd need to get over his fears.. 

Until he realized that maybe his father had his own fears.

He always seemed to hide whenever a particularly bad storm rolled in. He didn't hide under his bed, like Philip imagined someone would.. He went into his office. He seldom kept the door shut, but in these instances he would. Sometimes he wouldn't come out for hours, leaving Philip and Eliza to eat dinner alone. 

Philip didn't bring it up, at least not to his father. He waited until another storm rolled in to bring up the situation to his mother. 

They were doing one of Philips least favorite things.. Knitting. He would hold the yarn while his mother knitted. He would usually whine and kick his feet and she would scold him quietly, telling him that it would only take a few more minutes. 

But this time he was quiet.

He could tell his mother was growing suspicious of his silence as she kept looking over at him at random intervals, waiting for him to huff. 

"Mama, why does papa always hide in his study whenever it storms real bad?" Philip asked suddenly, furrowing his brow in concentration- as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. 

His mother stayed quiet before she gave her son a small smile. "You're very observant, Pip." She stayed quiet for a little bit, and Philip didn't think she was going to answer him. "Well, papa is afraid of storms. When he was younger a really big storm came through and now he's scared." 

"But papa is brave." Philip said, confused. He remembered less than a year ago when he fell into a spider web, he couldn't see spiders anymore without being terrified. 

"Even brave men get scared, Philip." Eliza explained. 

Philip nodded as his mother continued her work. He didn't really understand, but he was trying real hard to do so. He stayed silent for the rest of the time, barely even noticing when his mother had finished. He didn't even object when she told him to get ready for bed. 

When Philip reached his room, he stopped in the doorway of his bedroom, peeking around the corner to his father's study just down the hall. He could see the flicker of the candlelight illuminating the room. He was going to go to bed when suddenly he heard the crack of thunder outside and remembered what his had mother said. 

Philip bit his lip in thought. He knew that if something terrifying happened to him, he would be scared of storms too. When he was scared mama and papa would come and hold his hand until he went back to bed. 

Without a second thought, Philip grabbed the blanket from his bed. He carried it down the hallway, mumbling to himself when he couldn't get it to stop dragging on the floor. 

He pushed the door open, and he could see his father hunched over his writing desk. Although he continued writing at a ridiculously fast pace.. Philip could see the way his father's hand was curled at his side. 

There was another crack of thunder and his father stopped writing briefly and closed his eyes. Philip took this as his chance to intervene, and he walked slowly towards his father- trying to place the blanket over him, although he couldn't quite reach. 

"Pip.. What are you-" He mumbled, confused as the five year old plopped down next to him, and took a hold of the hand that he wasn't using to write. 

"It's okay, papa." Philip smiled, yawning.. He laid down on the floor next to his father. "I get scared sometimes too." 

X 

The crack of thunder woke Eliza from her sleep. She gasped as she sat up, wondering if it was from the storm raging outside or from the nightmare that kept repeating itself ever since Philip lost his life in a duel. She pressed a hand to her chest, the other hand subconsciously going toward her husband's spot in their bed, knowing she would find it empty, but reaching toward the spot out of habit. 

He hadn't been in their bed for awhile, after the affair he'd taken to sleeping in his study- only coming to bed when he knew Eliza was asleep.. Now he didn't come to bed at all. 

Eliza didn't know if he slept. Things had seemed like such a blur ever since her baby had died. At times she couldn't even get up to tend to the other children. Although she didn't have it in her to admit it, she was thankful that Alexander got them ready for church on Sundays, taking them when Eliza could not. 

Eliza sighed as she saw another flash of lightning. She should go check on her husband... No matter her anger towards him (she still loved him, despite everything). She made her decision as she eased herself out of bed, and grabbed the nearest blanket. 

She slowly made her way down the hall, stopping by Angelica's room and making sure the poor girl was finally able to get some sleep. Her heart broke for her little girl, who was so lost without older brother that she spent most of her days looking out the window... As if he were going to walk through the front door any moment. 

Eliza had simply expected to peek her head around the corner, and make sure that he wasn't out of sorts. But when she saw that he was asleep, his faced pressed against the writing desk- her heart broke, even though she'd previously believed it couldn't possibly break anymore. 

She took in a shaky breath as she made her way towards her husband. He looked younger in his sleep and his face was relaxed. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, the streaks of gray that ran through his once dark hair. 

It hadn't dawned on her that he was hurting too. No matter his role in Philip going through with the duel (He would have done it anyway. Eliza knew her son. He was like his father to a fault).. He had lost a son too. They had both loved Philip, and now he was gone. 

Her Alexander looked exhausted. 

Eliza sighed as she placed the blanket over him. Philip used to the same thing whenever it stormed badly, and it was comforting to Alexander- who had such a hard time confessing his weaknesses. Her hand hovered over his hair, and she could barely resist the urge to run her fingers through his dark locks. 

She turned away, intending to go back to bed. 

She gasped when he reached out and grabbed her hand. 

Eliza turned to look at him, and sure enough his eyes were still closed, but she could see the distress on his face. She could hear her own heartbeat increasing; it had been such a long time since she felt his touch. 

"Pip... I'm.. Sorry." He whispered in his sleep, and it broke off into a whimper. 

Eliza couldn't help the tears that streamed down her face as his grip on her hand loosened. She couldn't help herself now, as she ran a hand over his cheek. She took in a shaky breath, not knowing what to say to Alexander. She'd spent so long trying to avoid speaking all together. 

"You're forgiven." Eliza whispered as she brushed his hair out of his face. "You're always forgiven, my darling." 

Eliza left the room without another word. She wasn't quite ready to mend her relationship with her husband. She needed time. 

But time was such a fickle thing, and she didn't know how much time either of them had left.

**Author's Note:**

> then he dies like four years later :) 
> 
> OKAY.. so, disclaimer, irl I think Hamilton was a trashcan. In the musical, I think he's a trashcan but I genuinely find him interesting and relate to his characterization in a lot of ways. 
> 
> One of the things I find interesting is in 'It's Quiet Uptown' Hamilton talks about taking the kids to church, going to the store by himself.. and just doing a lot of things my himself. I imagine after losing her son, Eliza was in a deep depression and there were somethings she just couldn't do- so Alexander had to pick up some of pieces. That's interesting to me because he was obviously in a lot of pain but he still gave Eliza her space and did what he had to do, and only in the end when she grabs his hand does he allow himself to break. 
> 
> Does that excuse how he treated Eliza? No. Does Eliza deserve better. Yes. Do I like this garbage can character regardless and find him compelling to write. Also yes. 
> 
> Another thing I wanted to dwell on is that Alexander genuinely loved his son, and felt guilt about the duel. I think a lot of people like to be like 'It's ALL HIS FAULT' which, don't get me wrong, homeboy didn't give his son the best advice.. But.. 
> 
> A.) Pip is just like his pops and would have been like 'screw that' and would have done it anyway because he's a Hamilton with pride. 
> 
> B.) ALL of the duels Hamilton was involved in up until Burr (with the exception of Lee) ended without anyone firing their gun. That's how duels TYPICALLY ended. He most likely expected George and Philip to negotiate their way out of the duel, and that obviously didn't happen. 
> 
> I have a lot of thoughts at 2 AM
> 
> Please leave me a comment :)


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